


the last prayer

by BalthTheChaoticGood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene, Grief, M/M, POV Second Person, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, i'm not coping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27525490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalthTheChaoticGood/pseuds/BalthTheChaoticGood
Summary: You think about all the times you prayed to him; the pleas for help, for forgiveness, the many times you begged him to come back to you. You know, no matter how hard you try now, he won't hear your prayer. He never will again. And still, you have to pray to him, one last time. You have to tell him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	the last prayer

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a wreck y'all. I haven't written for this fandom for five or six years I think, haven't written for this ship for even longer, and I absolutely don't know if this is anything, but I needed to get this out of my system. So, here you go. I hope we get out of this alive <3

You think about the prayers you sent his way, all this time for all these years. You think about the times you prayed for his help, when you were backed into a corner with no way out. Even more you think about the times you prayed for his forgiveness – “please come back to me, please, I’m so sorry, please don’t leave me, _please_. I need you.”

You think of all the times you opened your mouth, but the words just wouldn’t come out, but even more. Even more you think about all the times you wanted to say something, you got _this_ close – but then he stopped you.

You always thought he knew. He must have known, and he didn’t want to hear it because he didn’t feel the same way, that’s what you thought. He never said anything, which was a relief in some way, but he never let you speak either.

“The one thing I want… it’s something I know I can’t have.”

How could he have gotten it so wrong? You wonder. And you cry. You haven’t stopped crying since the shadow swallowed him and you were left alone with his words.

He loves you.

And all this time, he believed you were worthy of it, believed you were good, believed that whatever had broken inside you an eternity ago was not beyond repair.

He loves you, and now he’s gone.

Why didn’t he ever give you the chance to speak? All those times it was on the tip of your tongue, and he never let you say the words. Not that you ever had the words, not the way he has them, but damnit, you tried. You would have tried so hard for him.

He loves you, and now he’s gone, and he’s never even given you the chance to say it back.

So you pray.

In all those years you prayed to him, you were always torn between wishing he would hear you and hoping he didn’t. You were too honest in your prayers from the beginning, too unguarded, too pleading. Most of the time, when he heard your prayers and came, you could barely look him in the eyes for all the things you said.

Where he is now, he can’t hear you. He will never hear you again, and you will never see his face again, and that’s how your prayer starts. “I wish I had looked at you more often when I still had the chance.” That’s not a prayer, not yet, but it becomes one when you add a choked “Please.” What you’re pleading for, you don’t know. Or rather, you do know, but it’s useless.

“I wish,” you continue, wiping the tears from your eyes, “that I could look at you right now and tell you – … Tell you…”

Even now, you don’t have the words. Maybe it’s your fault after all, maybe he was right in never letting you speak, because he refused to let you start what he knew you couldn’t finish.

It’s too late, but you try again. You promised yourself you’d always try for him, to become the person he already thought you were. So you try, even if there’s no point.

“Please,” you start again, but then you remember that begging is useless, and it’s even more humiliating than it always is, and you try once more. “If you were here…” You think about it. Yes, that’s good. That’s what he would have deserved to hear.

“If you were here, I wouldn’t let you believe for one more second that you couldn’t have what you wanted. Anything – you’d just have to ask. It was always yours. I’m so sorry –” And your voice breaks, but you force yourself to keep going. “I’m so sorry I ever let you doubt that. I’ve let you down. I always do that. Must be such a disappointment to you, huh? To know that it was all for nothing. Those things you said… I’m not that person. This is it, this is the endgame, and I just… want to give up. I’m so tired. And I can’t save anyone, not without you, and I couldn’t save you –”

That’s where you can’t keep going. The tears shake you up, you can feel yourself crumble, inside and out. “Please,” you whisper once more, with no wish behind it, because wishes are for children and for people who still have hope.

You have no hope.

You have only the words he left you with. That’s what you decide to hold onto. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to go on. You know he can’t hear you, but you pretend. You know you’re not what he said you are, but you’ll try.

You get up off the ground, you wipe the dust off your hands. In a minute, you’ll call your brother back, and then you’re going to figure out a new way to beat God, but –

one more moment.

You need to finish your prayer. You need to reach out and touch – something. So you cross the room and put your fingertips on the wall he vanished through. Then you press your cheek against it. It’s cold.

“Cas,” you whisper. “If you were here, maybe I still couldn’t say the words, but I could show you. Please let me show you.”

You hold your breath.

Nothing happens.

Of course nothing happens, you knew that, you knew he couldn’t hear you. He’s gone. For a moment, you imagine what it might be like. To hear that ringing in your ears, softly first, then louder and louder, painfully so, just like when he was first trying to speak to you. You imagine the sound of wings, the way he takes a breath before he says your name. You imagine the wall beneath your fingertips becoming warm, the Empty itself growing soft over your pathetic pleas, opening up the portal again to take mercy on you and swallow you, too.

You imagine it all so much that you can almost feel it. The ringing, the warmth. As if a reality where all this was possible were just a few inches away.

You know that’s not true. This is the only reality that’s left.

And you have to fight for it. For your brother. For the kid. For him. And yes, if you’re to believe him, for yourself as well.

_I love you, too_ , you don’t say, not out loud, not in your prayer. If he could hear you, he would know now.

“Please,” you end your prayer one last time, and then you get ready to be the man he thinks you are.


End file.
